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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29079738">Not Ready To Let Go</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Creative/pseuds/Val_Creative'>Val_Creative</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Tenet (2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood, Character Death Fix, Explicit Language, Feelings Realization, Fix-It, Forehead Touching, Friends to Lovers, Humor, Introspection, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Minor Injuries, Mutual Pining, Protectiveness, Restaurants, Reunited and It Feels So Good, Romantic Friendship, Time Travel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 10:40:35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,374</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29079738</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Creative/pseuds/Val_Creative</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It's an honor to die for Tenet, they say.</p><p>
  <i>Like hell.</i>
</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Neil/The Protagonist (Tenet)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>101</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Chocolate Box - Round 6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Not Ready To Let Go</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/phraseme/gifts">phraseme</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>At least Mr. Klaus had the courtesy to get them an ambulance… after leaving them for dead.</p><p>The Protagonist isn't <em>dead</em>. He's pretty sure Neil and him aren't stone goddamn <em>dead</em> right now on their way to the hospital closest to Oslo Airport. They inhaled a non-lethal whiff of halide gas so the officials and Mr. Klaus could suspect nothing.</p><p>His eyes crease open. </p><p>Neil lies on his back to the other ambulance stretcher, buckled in, his own eyes shut. His head flops towards the Protagonist. A few gold hairs tumble on Neil's brow. He's probably napping, the Protagonist thinks with a wheezy and delirious laugh. It turns into a choking cough, and then another, and another, with one of the EMTs muttering in Finnish and Neil's eyelids drifting apart.</p><p>It's the sounds of rattling medical equipment around him. It's how everything seems too-small and thickens with dizzying heat.</p><p>The Protagonist's heart stutters. </p><p>He's aware of Neil gazing over him purposefully, speaking silence like equations to an invisible clockwork oblivion. Neil's fingers reach all of the way out, between the two ambulance stretchers, and grip loosely over the back of the Protagonist's hand.</p><p>Maybe a whiff wasn't such a good idea.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>He hates the overly lit hospital rooms. Feels like going blind.</p><p>
  <em>"Whrr…you doing…?"</em>
</p><p>The Protagonist mumbles this, squinting. He propped up against a medical cot. Everything's white. The kind where a half-asleep Protagonist can't tell everything's natural or illuminated by the harsh sunlight. He feels gigantic against the thin, sterile bedding.</p><p>"Checking your vitals before we leave,"  Neil informs him. "You had low blood pressure when we got in. Breathe normally."</p><p>He peers down his wristwatch, waiting for the Protagonist to do as bid, holding his forefinger and middle to the Protagonist's radial artery. The clean white fabric of the hospital-tee makes Neil's skin and hair appear more sun-gold than they are.</p><p>"… Isn't that what the nurses are for?" </p><p>"Always good to be thorough," Neil says, his pleasantly dull expression never faltering. "That is what my superior insisted upon in the beginning of my training. He was quite serious and <em>thorough</em> about the job. According to him, one should always be prepared for the worst outcome, because it <em>will</em> happen when you least expect it—<em>and then</em> you are well and truly fucked."</p><p>"Sounds extremely paranoid," the Protagonist retorts.<br/> <br/>Dullness fades, replacing with Neil's quirky, little smile. "Oh, you have no idea." Neil scoots off the Protagonist's hospital cot, rubbing his nape. "Hungry?" Neil asks, but he nods to the unidentifiable fruit cup on the Protagonist's adjustable tray.</p><p>The Protagonist sullenly wrinkles his nose, pushing aside the tray. "Starving, actually."</p><p>"Excellent. Perhaps a decent cup of coffee is what we both need."</p><p>He manages to slide himself to the cot-edge, hoisting himself to his feet and finding himself steady. There's no IV to remove, thank god. In the middle of this, Neil touches the Protagonist's elbow, hovering at the other man's side to help. </p><p>There is <em>something</em> Neil is keeping from him. </p><p>The Protagonist may not fully understand time travel, or the inverted bullets from Barbara's laboratory, or really <em>anything</em> that's fucking happening until it happens — but he knows <em>people</em>. Neil's micro-expressions give him away. The slightest raise of his eyebrows. The tilt of Neil's frowning mouth. He stared a little too long at the Protagonist when they first shook hands.</p><p>"Hey, uh," the Protagonist breathes, swallowing a grimace. "Neil, I don't want there to be any miscommunication between us if we're gonna keep working together. I'm here to track everything Andrei Sator is doing. I'm not looking to get involved with—"</p><p>"Men—" Neil blurts out.</p><p>"Other agents—<em>wow</em>—" the Protagonist finishes, blinking rapidly and chuckling. Neil's smile widens. "Way to assume, asshole."</p><p>"Then you're partial to men."</p><p>"I really don't think that's any of your business, but yeah."</p><p>Neil's cheeks turn rosy. </p><p>"Understood," he mumbles, lowering his eyes apologetically and stepping away. The Protagonist doesn't think Neil is. Not that it bothers him. Neil has been dangled in front of the Protagonist like a long-awaited puzzlebox, and it's tempting.</p><p>The Protagonist has never gotten along with someone so fast. </p><p>(As if they've known each other this whole time.)</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Their suit jackets contain traces of halide gas. </p><p>Neil dumps the plastic bag containing them into a street garbage can. They've kept the twill striped white dress shirts and slacks. The Protagonist supposes they didn't gather as much of the toxic chemical irritant as the now discarded suit jackets.</p><p>"During the avalanche on Karachay-Balkar—"</p><p>The Protagonist dabs off his mouth with a napkin. "Is this before or after burning down that San Luis Potos orphanage?"</p><p>"After," Neil corrects him. He furrows his brows incredulously and yet grins at a very amused-looking Protagonist. "Blimey, you say it like we had the orphans inside—<em>of course</em> we didn't have the orphans inside. Nobody had been living in the building since Luis Donaldo Colosio's assassination. The Blood Alliance was holding it for trafficking a number of illegal firearms."</p><p>"Now who's being dramatic?"</p><p>They've ducked themselves into the back booth of a Norwegian restaurant, considerably more rumpled and bruised than the other patrons. Nobody spared them a glance upon entering. It's reassuring to know the locals mind their own business. </p><p>The Protagonist doesn't know why Neil keeps ordering more food, insisting that he take a nibble of the whale carpaccio and the fresh cod served with liver and roe and stirred butter. Neil combs through his disheveled and gold hair with his fingertips, thanking their waitress offhandedly as she brings another plate of skreifillet. He downs the rest of his glass of ice water.</p><p>"So, the avalanche—" the Protagonist repeats flatly, trying to steer the conversation.</p><p>"Right." Neil gestures with a bread roll. "I had two other agents with me when we got buried under the snow and ice. Tatiana got away with the cryptography device, <em>bloody twat</em>—" The Protagonist listens to him complaining, quietly snorting. "My superior eventually caught up with her. But at the moment, his concern was who was left alive. He had no way of knowing and ordered the rescue on Karachay-Balkar in the winter storm. He dug me out himself." Neil sighs, exasperated. "I owe him my life. Again."</p><p>"You talk about your superior <em>a lot</em> for him being your superior."</p><p>"What do you mean?" Neil asks.</p><p>Despite his neutral face, the Protagonist can sense a ripple of tension.</p><p>Neil pours himself another Irish coffee, and the Protagonist shakes his head at the offer. "I mean you both sound… close," he explains to Neil. "Closer than you should be in this profession. We don't settle down at a ripe old age, you know what I mean?"</p><p>It's a moment of silence before Neil's gives a familiar upwards quirk. The Protagonist relaxes.</p><p>"Doesn't matter. He's my best friend." Neil slices his fork into the lemon tart. "I would die for him a hundred times over, if not more," he adds, solemn-eyed. The Protagonist wonders if Neil's ever been more honest in a conversation between them.</p><p>"So… to you, he's…"</p><p>"Annoyingly persistent," Neil declares, but eyeing the other man benevolently. "I had accepted my death under that avalanche as one should. But he wasn't ready to let me go." The Protagonist's mouth feels dry. He wonders why Neil looks at him like that sometimes — like there's multiple layers to the Protagonist, and the Protagonist just isn't aware of it yet. "From then on, I felt like I needed to protect him from my own mortality." Neil thins his lips together, musing, "That sounds ridiculous, doesn't it?"</p><p>The Protagonist shrugs. </p><p>
  <em>"Kinda."</em>
</p><p>Neil huffs a laugh, taking a sip of his lukewarm coffee.</p><p>"I guess if I cared about someone that much… I would do anything for them," the Protagonist whispers, fisting up his napkin. He hates to admit it, but the Protagonist feels a twinge of jealousy about Neil's best friend and Neil. Imagine being <em>that</em> in love.</p><p>"One day you will," Neil says tonelessly, but smiles as if he knows something the Protagonist doesn't. "I'm sure."</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Red and blue.</p><p>Forward and inverted.</p><p>The Protagonist remembers stepping into ROTAS door striped in blue, encountering his inverted self and knowing nothing. A part of him wishes the Protagonist still knew nothing. But he's the Protagonist and this is his present to save from the future.</p><p>Ives orders them on the helicopter-Chinooks along with the group of agents hired on.</p><p>Red and blue for the pincer movement. </p><p>Neil slips on his blue armband and keeps to himself. They haven't spoken.</p><p>The Protagonist doesn't know what to say him.</p><p>Neil has been keeping so many secrets, and the Protagonist hasn't scratched the surface. It frustrates him. He doesn't want to be separated from Neil on this mission — he wants to fight alongside him, to be able to watch Neil's six and to live through this.</p><p>
  <em>I'm not looking to get involved with—</em>
</p><p>The Protagonist grits his teeth. </p><p>He knows what's happening. Finally. And it might get him and Neil killed if the Protagonist indulges in his newly developing feelings for Neil.</p><p>The Protagonist joins him on the other side of the table, grasping Neil's shoulder.</p><p>"Hey."</p><p>It gets Neil's attention. </p><p>He stares at the Protagonist's gloved fingers holding him, and then his dark eyes. "Hey," a bewildered Neil echoes softly.</p><p>"Need a hand?"</p><p>"It keeps slipping," Neil mumbles, yanking aggravated on his left, blue armband. </p><p>The Protagonist looks around, grabbing a silver safety pin from across the table and undoing it. "Always good to be thorough, right?" he comments, pinning the top of Neil's armband. His stomach heats when Neil looks at him again, his eyes widening.</p><p>
  <em>I'm not looking to get involved with—</em>
</p><p>Neil asks, cutting off the Protagonist's brooding, "Where did you put your helmet?"</p><p>"Left it," the Protagonist says. He heads to the locker, pulling one free. Neil follows him. With an effortless thrust, Neil fits the helmet over the Protagonist's head. Before it registers for him, Neil leans in and smack his lips noisily to the Protagonist's visor. </p><p>"… Try to not get killed."</p><p>As Neil places on his own helmet, adjusting the straps, the Protagonist cracks up. "Asshole," he murmurs, grinning and cradling the back of Neil's helmet one-handed, tapping their foreheads. He just knows Neil has his own shit-eating grin underneath.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>He's thirty-two when Neil goes back in time, meeting the Protagonist's twenty-seven year old self. Preventing doom and destruction. Saving the Protagonist multiple occasions in multiple time streams. Getting himself killed for it.</p><p>It's an honor to die for Tenet.</p><p>
  <em>Like hell.</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>On his thirty-fifth birthday, the Protagonist decides to put together a theorem. He walks his halls, reciting calculations by heart. They need to go back to Stalsk-12, the Protagonist guesses. Not in the exact time, but location and date. Time comes later.</p><p>At night, the Protagonist curls up on Neil's side of the bed, throwing an arm over a pillow and imagining him.</p><p>
  <em>("Neil," the man introduces himself. He clasps the Protagonist's sweat-clammy hand, kneeling up from the ground and his fallen manila envelopes. Neil needs a backpack, the Protagonist remembers. "I know that's not the name on the transcripts. My university roommates caught me watching Neil DeGrasse Tyson for all hours, instead of cramming, and now I'm rather fond of it. What do you think?")</em>
</p><p>
  <em>(He waits for the nurse's shift change before visiting Neil. The Protagonist loosely grips Neil's wrist, counting out his heartbeats and then stroking his thumb gently over Neil's cool skin as his partner stirs awake. Getting buried alive in snow and ice took its toll. "Had my lucky charm with me… the whole time…" Neil whispers drowsily, flipping his tiny metal ring on orange-red string under the med-bay's lamplight.)</em>
</p><p>
  <em>(There's no thinking about what's to come. It already has. Neil's lips make a slow, worshipful press to the Protagonist's jaw, his body quivering faintly from the earlier orgasm. He arches, naked and golden, wrapping his arms to the Protagonist's neck and shoulder. Neil shushes him when hot tears drip down the Protagonist's cheeks. "Stay with me, Neil," the Protagonist begs. "Stay, please.")</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>It's the 14th. He's off the coast of Siberia where snow dusts the wide, empty plain.</p><p>Neil still has a third of the algorithm in the time-lock he's unable to escape for. Initially, Neil gave away his own third to the Protagonist for safekeeping, but Ives claims he left his third in one of the bags on board. He didn't have time to double-check whose bag belonged to who or look them over. The Protagonist can 'nuclear-magnetize' his own pieces, and call Neil back. </p><p>Maybe it'll work… maybe it won't. </p><p>Maybe it will destroy everything in existence.</p><p>With certainty, Protagonist does know Neil was right: he isn't ready to let go of Neil.</p><p>
  <em>Not yet.</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The moment it's done… it's done.</p><p>The time-lock ends with Neil in full gear standing in the middle of the plains, the inside of his helmet covered in blood. He wretches it off. The Protagonist lurches towards him, hollering out Neil's name in relief and fear.</p><p>Neil stares stunned, looking around in disbelief. </p><p>"Oh my god," he mumbles, letting the Protagonist embrace him, pulling Neil off his feet and setting him down.</p><p>"It's over," the Protagonist says, wheezing out laughter and cupping Neil's bloody face in his palms. Their mouths collide, teeth clinking. "It's over, it's over," he repeats against Neil's lips, tasting spit and blood, "It's over, Neil. You're out now. You're out."</p><p>Neil's face tightens. "I was dead… I…"</p><p>"You died in another timeline created, but you're alive here." The Protagonist lifts his head, worried about the dark red blood now crusting on Neil's forehead but there's no visible bullet wound. Must have been an opened cut. "Look at me, Neil…"</p><p>The other man's eyes refocus. Neil stares over the Protagonist's soft smile for a moment, and smiles back widely, tearfully. </p><p>Neil's hands shake when they cup the Protagonist's face.</p><p>"Hungry?" the Protagonist whispers. He touches over the back of Neil's right hand, moving down to Neil's elbow to steady him. Neil wipes off his nose, hobbling into him and seeming less dizzy by the minute. They'll be okay now. They always were.</p><p>
  <em>"Starving, actually."</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
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